Lottie snorts. “It’s not working. I haven’t felt anything remotely similar to the feeling that you and August describe.”
She sighs. “Give it time.” She sounds certain enough, though she does find this concerning. Lottie should have felt something by now, surely. There is not a reasonable explanation for her magic not working. Unless… Lottie doesn’t have a soulmate.
But that cannot be possible. Everyone, except a Honey Witch, has to have a soulmate. Even Lottie Burke, who hates everyone around her. Someone is her soulmate. But where are they? And if the spell won’t work, how will she find them?
“Mari?”
“Yes?”
“I meant what I said.”
“About what?”
Lottie smiles so that you can hear it in her voice. “You’re so gorgeous.”
She doesn’t know how else to respond other than with the truth. “So are you.” The moment she says it, shame creeps over her body. If she keeps allowing herself to acknowledge her feelings, or worse, act upon them, she will torture herself. Lust is not enough.
She clears her throat. “Lottie?”
“Yes?”
“We shouldn’t get too close.”
“What does that mean?”
“I mean, I am cursed. And I do not want to get hurt. So we should just… maintain a respectful distance.”
Lottie sits up and releases a breath. “What is a respectful distance?”
“You know,” Marigold says as she waves her hands around in an attempt to illustrate her point. “Me here, you there… respectfully.”
“Respectfully, I do not think that is what you really want,” Lottie says.
“Well,respectfully, you do not know me better than I know myself.”
“Respectfully, I think I do.”
Marigold huffs. “Respectfully, I am done with this conversation. Good night.”
Lottie lets out a breath, but she does not continue the argument. There is nothing more to say.
Chapter Twenty-Four
The morning light is soft through the window of the ship. August is the first up, awakening Marigold and Lottie as he pounds on their door. The two simultaneously leap out of bed in a panic at the banging.
“Rise and shine, ladies.” His voice is muffled through the heavy door. “We’re pulling into port.”
They rush to dress, but as Marigold tries to put on her stay, she yelps out in pain and drops it to the ground.
“Oh, Witch,” Lottie says. “That tattoo is going to be sore for a few days.”
She looks around—surely, something here might serve as a soft barrier between her rubbed-raw skin and her clothing. Or maybe she has something that could take away the pain altogether.
“What do you think would happen if I put royal jelly over it? That’s the salve I used when your lip got stung.” She starts to dig through her things, searching for the little jar.
“I think you might actually have a miracle product for tattoo artists there. Let’s try it. I need to change the wrapping anyway.”
She pulls the jar from a pile of dresses and twists off the lid. She turns away from Lottie as she takes off her chemise and starts undoing the wrapping around her. Suddenly, there is a tug on the bandage from behind, and she feels Lottie’s warmth against her back.
